Nouns and Books
by elfyemily
Summary: "Brittany wasn't stupid. She knew that. Santana knew that, too." Just a short, fluffy-ish fic told from Brittany's POV. Fills in a gap that if the Glee writers had any sense, they would fill themselves.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first time writing for Glee, having been inspired by so many other, much better, Glee fanfics out there. It always struck me as odd that the Glee writers had created this amazing character who genuinely shows more than enough signs of dyslexia, without ever properly addressing it. I know that Brittany is largely supposed to be a comic-relief character, but I think at this point she deserve so much more than that.**

**Set around season 3, when Brittany and Santana are properly established as girlfriends.**

**Title comes from the song "I Can Tell That We Are Going To Be Friends" by the White Stripes, which I think sums up Brittana perfectly, for me.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, 'I Kissed A Girl' would have never had happened.**

* * *

><p>Brittany didn't mean to spell stuff wrong, she just got confused sometimes. Letters were confusing. And because letters were confusing, so were the words.<p>

It wasn't_ her_ fault that she got mixed up between ballad and mallard. They're almost the same word! Same goes for duvet and duet. And yet, everybody had looked at her as if she was stupid.

She hated that. She hated being called stupid, or idiotic, or brainless, or dumb, or, once or twice, retarded. That word hurt the most. If she were president, she would ban that word completely.

She wasn't any of those things. She knew that. Santana knew that, too. Santana never spoke down to her, or treated her like a child. If Brittany asked her how to spell a word, she would write it down on a piece of paper in clear, un-joined writing, so that Brittany could copy it. And she never, ever laughed at her about it. That was one of the many reasons why Santana was awesome.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that Ms. Pillsbury has told her that she had something called 'dyslexia'. When Brittany didn't know what that was, Ms. Pillsbury told her it was a learning difficulty that meant that she had a lot more trouble than most people when it came to reading and spelling. Ms. Pillsbury also made a point of telling her that it wasn't her fault at all and it's just something she was born with, and, in fact, it was thought that between about 5 to 10% of the population were dyslexic.

"Does that mean I'm not stupid?" Brittany asked, wide eyed.

"Of course you're not stupid, Brittany," Ms. Pillsbury had replied, a soft, caring smile on her face.

Brittany grinned. _She_ knew she wasn't stupid, but sometimes everybody else forgot.

After they had finished talking, with Ms. Pillsbury telling Brittany what this meant for her, and what sort of help she would get, Brittany practically bounced out of the office, eager to find Santana.

When Brittany located her by her locker and told her about what Ms. Pillsbury had said, it turned out Santana was just as excited as she was. She had gone to school with Brittany all their lives and she knew first hand how difficult some things were for her. Sometimes, when Brittany had an essay to write, she would tell Santana what she wanted to say, and then Santana would write it down for her. Santana once joked about being Brittany's 'scribe'. Brittany had asked her if that was the opposite of 'describe'. Santana thought it was a fair question.

"Does that mean the glee club will stop making fun of me?" Brittany asked, biting her lip nervously.

"How do you mean?" Santana countered, curious.

"I mean like, I know how the glee club are supposed to be so accepting and stuff, and it doesn't matter if you're black or white or gay or left-handed or whatever... But, like, I know they try really hard not to make fun of me but... I don't know, I think they forget, sometimes..." Brittany trailed off. She didn't mean to put a downer on their good moods, but this was something she though about a lot but rarely expressed out loud.

"Forget?" Santana pushed gently. She looked right into Brittany's eyes, and Brittany suddenly felt every exposed.

"I just mean, that... Sam's disclectic -"

"-Dyslexic-"

"-Dyslexic, and nobody makes fun of _him_. Apart from you, but that's different. " That made Santana laugh, and she looked down to the floor, bashfully.

"And maybe," Brittany continued, "If they knew that I was like him, maybe they would... Be a little bit nicer?" She was biting her lip again, and fiddling with her hands.

"Well, why don't we ask Mr. Shue to say something to them?" Santana suggested, taking Brittany's hands in her own, to still them.

Brittany just looked down at the floor. "Mr. Shue isn't very nice, either." Granted, Mr. Shue did help Brittany learn the alphabet, but sometimes he forgot, too, even though he was a teacher.

"Well, then we could ask Ms. Pillsbury to say something to Mr. Shue, since they're smooching an' all. Does that seem like a good idea?"

"Yes," Brittany smiled, feeling a bit better.

"Good." Santana took Brittany's hand properly, and they walked down the hall to their next class.

Brittany wasn't stupid. She knew that. Santana knew that, too.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are good for the soul...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**This was originally just supposed to be a oneshot, but I guess I liked the story too much to let it go. Santana's not in this one, but she is referenced throughout. This chapters more about Quinn and Brittany's friendship (no shipping here, don't worry). **

**Hope you enjoy :)**

**Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my fault.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee. Which is a shame, because _someone_ needs to make Blaine go away. Also Finn. Finn just needs to not exist.**

* * *

><p>It was pretty packed in the Lima Bean, and Quinn was quickly losing her patience. Of course it was crowded, it was Saturday. Quinn rolled her eyes as she finally made it to the front of the queue, ordering two mocha's and a packet of shortbread, and then making her way over to an empty table by the window.<p>

It was only a couple of minutes before she looked up and saw Brittany walking past, heading towards the entrance. She knocked on the window, causing Brittany to smile as she noticed her. It didn't take long for Brittany to enter the Lima Bean and navigate her way through all the people to get to Quinn's table.

"Hey you," Quinn greeted cheerfully. "I bought you a mocha, and the shortbread is to share."

"Aw, you didn't have to," Brittany replied, bashful, but sitting down and taking her drink nevertheless.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I got here first." Ever since Brittany had been officially diagnosed as dyslexic, she had become even more determined to pass all of her classes and prove that she wasn't some unfocused idiot, which – unfairly, from Quinn's perspective – most of the teachers thought she was. Quinn had been in classes with Brittany long enough to know that if Brittany had trouble understanding something, she tended to just sort of zone out, but she also knew that Brittany was an avid note-taker and intense listener when she was interested in what the teachers were saying, and it was clear that she did really just want to learn. But teachers can be cruel, even if they don't mean to.

So when Brittany asked Quinn that one morning during glee club if Quinn could give her private tutoring ("or something"), Quinn had been more than willing to help. For so long Quinn had been treated as just a pretty face, the head cheerleader that fell from grace, that when someone actually acknowledged and appreciated her clear intelligence (she was going to Yale, after all), she couldn't help but light up with happiness.

So, every Saturday since then, they met up at the Lima Bean, drank coffee, and Quinn helped Brittany with whatever homework she had that week. Quinn loved tutoring Brittany, as Brittany's head was just so full of thoughts and ideas, and some of the stuff she came out with was brilliant. Most of all, Quinn adored how their friendship was now stronger than ever. Quinn thought back to their freshman year in highschool, when she first met Brittany. Brittany and Santana had known each other for years by then, and they were already attached by the hip (Quinn wondered briefly if they were already sleeping together by then), and although Quinn had decided to makes friends with them, it was more out of necessity for her reputation on the Cheerio's than actual interest in being friends with them. She didn't really get them: Santana secretly terrified her (although she would never admit it), and she was convinced Brittany came from another solar system entirely (she felt bad about that, now). It was weird thinking about that now. First impressions are never nearly correct.

"So, what have you got for me today?" Quinn asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"History," Brittany replied, taking a piece of shortbread. "I mean, whose idea was it to pass the Tonkin Gulf Resolution? No one should have that much power, not even the president…"

* * *

><p>"So you see, in the end, the US government were pretty much just looking for an excuse to escalate the situation in Vietnam."<p>

"Even though the second attack probably didn't even happen?"

"Yep."

"That's so stupid," Brittany concluded, frowning at her notes.

"Well, they were already in too deep by then, it was basically a big mess of a situation."

"It's still stupid."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "It is." During the tutorial, both girls had finished their drinks, and Brittany had insisted on paying for the refills.

"I think we've done enough work today. Have you got anything else you need to finish?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, Spanish, but I'll do that with Santana later," Brittany replied, smiling behind her cup. Quinn considered pretending not to notice, knowing that Brittany would get embarrassed if she called her out, but decided that embarrassing Brittany was way more fun.

"Look atchoo, ya smitten kitten!" Quinn grinned as Brittany blushed, smiling bashfully, trying in vain to hide it.

"Shut up," she mumbled.

"But you're just so cute!" Quinn was using her over-enthusiastic girly-girl voice, trying hard not to burst out laughing at Brittany's pout.

"_Quinnn_," Brittany whined.

"_Brittanyyy_," Quinn echoed.

"I thought only grown-ups could go to Yale? And grown-ups don't make fun of people."

"That's not true and you know it."

"I hate you."

"Love you too." Finally, neither girl could keep a straight face any longer, and they both broke out in hysterical laughter.

While they were still laughing, Brittany's phone buzzed. She waited for herself to calm down a little before pulling it out of her pocket and checking her texts.

"Whoops! I gotta go, I promised Santana I would help her babysit her cousins today."

"Someone willingly left Santana in charge of looking after children?" Quinn was surprised. Santana wouldn't be her first choice of babysitter, nor her second. Or third. It seemed more like something Brittany would be good at.

"She's actually pretty good with kids, when she wants to be," Brittany answered, not bothering to hide the smile on her face this time.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Quinn chuckled. Brittany gathered up her papers and put them in her bag, getting ready to head off.

"So, same time next week?" She asked.

"Of course," replied Quinn. "Have fun with Santa and her little elves."

"Hey! Only I get to call her that!"

"Would you prefer 'Satan'?"

"It has its charm."

"You're such a dork."

* * *

><p><strong>Whatdya think? I'm not as well practiced at writing for glee than I am for skins, but I hope I don't suck too much.<strong>


End file.
